


This Must Be It

by heartattack2013 (orphan_account)



Series: This Must Be It [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alpha Derek, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fantasy, Knotting, Mating, Minor Character Death, Mpreg, Multi, POV Alternating, Rimming, except he's not a sheriff, it says sheriff stilinski, minor mentions of gods
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 21:32:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/heartattack2013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And with his feet planted firmly in the ground he feels the power of the earth flow through him, the power she bestowed, so that he could lead his brethren into the new world.</p><p>The grass twist between his toes, growing and tangling at rapid pace, the pines shoot up and everything blossoms. </p><p>The wild flowers twist together like a crown, a laurel, and the deer gallop golden though the trees and the birds sing so pretty.</p><p>A high rapturous trill, weaving him tales of the world he could give to his people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Must Be It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Woo! Finally wrapping this up, had to stop editing it though, I was gonna edit it to death. Jeez. Only an epilogue left and I'm officially done, though I do plan to write a few more one shots focusing on other characters. That'll be fun.
> 
> This is my contribution to the Sterek campaigns Wolf Haven charity project and belongs to abbygreeneyes (NimblePhoenix) who'd won officially a thousand words...
> 
> You see how well that went. I hope you like it all the same, and if this isn't at all what you wanted or you feel this doesn't fulfill your prompt please let me know.
> 
> Anyways,
> 
> This was un-beta'd so please feel free to send constructive criticism and point out any spelling or grammatical errors. 
> 
> Thanks.

Tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies out of the lake  
                                                          and dress them in warm clothes again.  
           How it was late, and no one could sleep, the horses running  
until they forget that they are horses.  
               It's not like a tree where the roots have to end somewhere,  
           it's more like a song on a policeman's radio,  
          how we rolled up the carpet so we could dance, and the days  
were bright red, and every time we kissed there was another apple  
                                                                                      to slice into pieces.  
Look at the light through the windowpane. That means it's noon, that means  
           we're inconsolable.  
                           Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.  
These, our bodies, possessed by light.                
                                                          Tell me we'll never get used to **it.**

 

***

 

Stiles mother combs her fingers through soft curls, sighing forlornly and looking nostalgic as she bathes him.

“I remember my first ball” she speaks calmly

“It was a different time and we were a poor family of desperate dragons, my mother had sent me off in her best with hopes of riches. A baby pink corset and matching silk panties, a thin, short, pink dress that cinched around my wrist and my waist with slits down its arms. Wrapped up in colorful scarves and with my golden hair braided with wildflowers and crowning my head I looked foreign and alluring, she was sure I’d land myself a good man with good money.”

“Did you?”

“No, your father was just as poor as the rest of us, but he was passionate and strong and smart. I believed we’d find our way through whatever struggles, and we did too.”

He sighs, sliding down farther into the lukewarm water and hanging his head off the edge of tub, closing his eyes and trying to force the knot in his stomach to loosen. It doesn’t work out.

“It’s not the same” he says quietly as his mother slides her fingers through his hair, soapy and sweet smelling, he knows she’d paid an arm and a leg for such soap, had saved it and saved it, never deciding it was a good time to put such a rarity to use. Now he watches it dwindle as she smooth’s it over his pale skin and through his auburn hair, he wonders aloud why she waste something so precious to her on him, her fingers tighten against his scalp before continuing her ministrations, answering in her same easy tone.

“For the same reason I pick the flowers and make you a crown, for the same reason I cut your hair so carefully and waxed you smooth, for the same reason I boiled the water and bathe you now. You are no waste, you are my only son, my greatest love and there will never be another Eligendo for you in your life, you’ll get many chances to find your mate but none like this night.” She takes him by the shoulders and pushes him back into the tub and under the water, cleansing his hair of the sweet milky soap, then releasing the plug and letting the water drain into their make-shift plumbing system.

He steps out onto the rug and takes his mother’s hand, pulling her from her knees and accepting the towel she offers, wrapping it around himself and walking out of the bathroom, down the hall and into the his room. There he catches the last of the sun through his window as it shades the sky bleeding reds, deep oranges and light pinks, an edge of dark purple continues to grow in the nights wake. His mother leans into the doorway and meets his eyes.

“Your clothes are on your bed, get dressed and I will comb your hair in the sitting room” Stiles nods and turns his back on her, facing his bed, a mess of colorful throw pillows, many a blankets, and a thick blanket of camel hide that had cost a pretty penny and had protected him from several chilling winters.

Laid across the spread carefully are white silken panties, smelling of lavender and looking of innocence, a cotton button up rest below it, clean and white and new, brown corduroy shorts are set to the side and weathered boots of clean brown leather rest at the foot of his bed. He finishes drying off and begins to dress himself, the underwear are first, soft as they slide against smooth skin and rest low on his hips, fitting around his bottom. The shirt comes next; he pulls it on over slanted shoulders and collarbones, buttons it up carefully, and rolls up the cuffs and buttons them too. He then pulls on his shorts and tucks in the dress shirt, fastening them quickly and pulling out his shirt slightly so it looks fashionable.

He drags his mother’s old boots to the side of the bed before leaning over to pull them on, lacing them up to the third eyelet from the top, then tightening the laces and tying them so they will fit his foot but are loose and open near the top where it is unlaced, the pale skin of his calves disappearing into the boot.

He stands from his bed and walks to the living room where his mother is waiting, touching soft clay walls as he makes his way through the short hallway. His mother rises from the counter she leans against, making her way towards a wooden chair and at the head of their table; a brush, a comb, and crown of white chiffon hibiscus neatly twisted and tied together rest in front of the seat. He sits down and closes his eyes, let’s his mother continue to take care of him for what may be the last time.

…

 

For Stiles the most important part of tonight will be the Eligendo ball, where he with the rest of the village's omega’s will line up in front of the royal family and wait, like a lamb to be slaughtered, to see if they are chosen by any of royal family’s of age dominants. Alpha’s pick first, but there’s hardly any Alpha’s around, so it’s usually beta’s who get to choose in order of their ties to the King, his children, then his nieces and nephews, then his first cousins, and so on. There’s usually a decent amount of royal beta’s at least, seeing as the family never seems to stop reproducing, but there’s only ever a couple of Alpha’s at most every 20 or so years, seeing as their current Alpha’s first born(s) is the only intended to take the role as alpha and the crown that comes with it.

This year the Alpha’s eldest, the Hale twins Laura and Derek have returned home from their four year journey through the lands, a pilgrimage much longer than the usual for their peoples dominants, who typically leave early spring and return early fall.

For Derek, every moment, every celebration, every ritual, every part of this day and the days to follow are huge and important. This is his first time home in six years, and looking at all his people, he can’t help but feel drunk on their presence. These are the people who have loved him unconditionally all his life, have raised him and protected him and then set him free, giving him the world and cheering him on while he took advantage of it, loving him still all the time that he was gone doing so.

They welcome with shining eyes and open arms as soon as he walks onto familiar soil, cheering his name and surrounding him, embracing him, kissing his cheek and wiping at the tears he couldn’t hold back, pushing him closer and closer to his King, singing their praises and laughing with joy all the while. He is their son just as much as he is fathers and his mothers and all the joy and the love and pride in his chest swells and washes over him, leaves him laughing and crying and kissing and nuzzling and pulling his sister closer as he makes his way through a crowd of his biggest fans. This is his family, his pack, and he can’t imagine how he ever forgot how much he loved them.

The crowd follows him into the palace, barefooted and good natured, bearing gifts and an uncontained excitement. He walks and walks until stone turns to marble, and ivory pillars to beautiful expansive walls covered in printed patterns, until the wide hallway opens into a beautiful room large enough to fit all of his people. Alabaster walls and foreign rugs look and smell like home, not unlike the beautiful family that stands before him waiting. Laura’s grip on his hand tightens and he can feel her shaking as they march forward, the crowd hushed as they watch.

He reaches his mother first, standing tall and beautiful as her expression crumples beneath his gaze, as he steps forward and cradles her face, kissing her cheek before burying his face in her neck and shaking as she wraps her arms around him and sobs.

Eventually she lets go and he steps back only to be grabbed by his shoulders and pulled into his father’s roping arms. Laughs at the realization that he and his father are the same height, and that he is the more built of the two, his King having softened with age. He pulls back but keeps his grip on his father’s biceps while he is gripped by his shoulders.

“My children, my love, you have finally came home to us, are you prepared to take your mate and fight your place on the throne.” Derek nods, keeping steady as his father stares him down.

He hears Laura echo him as he answers,

“I am”

…

Stiles had arrived early along with the other omegas, escorted by his father and mother but soon left on his own, pushed into place in the line organized alphabetically and then left alone to wonder and worry. He takes note of the others, some speaking in hushed tones with heads ducked together, others looking alone and lost, he recognizes Lydia up in the M’s he assumes, Isaac just a little bit ahead of her, and distantly he recognizes Matt too, which is an easy enough distraction because sort of fucking terrifies him.

Stiles, doesn’t get the chance to sit on that thought though, interrupted by the entrance of Prince and Princess into the castle, a crowd of loud and boisterous villagers practically carrying them in, cheering and whistling and swarming the crying alpha’s as they push them towards their waiting family.

Stiles watches as they walk dazedly up to their mother and father, falling into them, collapsing into more tears and more laughter as they welcome their beloved’s home. The crowd quiets as the King addressed Derek and Laura, breaking out in cheer once again as they accept their challenge. Distantly Stiles wonders when they will battle for the crown, surely before they mate seeing as the Inauguration is always tied into the wedding.

The crowd quiets once again as their Alpha addresses them.

“Pack” he begins, the room is silent. “We have gathered tonight for many reasons, all in good nature, we welcome home our proud sons and daughters, mine included, and celebrate their safe return, we also celebrate our beautiful beta’s and omega’s, who are now of age and have blossomed and grown in their absence. We celebrate the concumbentes temporum, the mating season, and in hopes that they might find true love, we bring the young folk together during this celebration, and give them the opportunity find someone they may have overlooked any other time, someone who could very well be their soul mate. Tonight my son and daughter will pick their mate, and in a week’s time they will marry.” He pauses, eyes scanning the crowd of people.

“Pack, tonight I am so very pleased to welcome you to another annual Eligendo ball, and I hope that you are just as pleased to be here. Now with that set aside let us kick off the ceremonies beginning with the choosing.”

The crowds now separated into groups, settled at tables with gifts and food resting while they watch the ceremonies commence. The omega’s line up in front of the head table, hyper aware of the silence and all the eyes watching him Stiles follows biting his lip. His senses are clogged up with the presence of Alpha and a blush has taken him over as his body warms and he attempts not to swoon. The bachelors stand as the omega’s settle in front of them, and Stiles hyper focuses on them, their gender, build, rank, distinctive features, posture, expression, how their eyes address the crowd and the omega’s, their reactions and their scent if he can locate it. He takes note of it all, relaxing as he settles into the habit of observation, his heartbeat settles too and this time he takes his time trailing his eyes slowly across the line of royalty, settling on prince Derek, who is looking beyond him, then randomly at the omega’s before he breathes almost imperceptibly and his expression eases. He then starts slowly down the line face impassive as he takes in the young men and women presented before him.

Their eyes meet and Stiles heart skitters again, Stiles can feel himself blush at the attention as Derek keeps his gaze.

He bites into his lip again and looks down before peeking through his eyelashes and Derek’s eyes have yet to leave him, his expression somewhat dazed before focusing again. Stiles hands fidget and he fights not to grab at his elbow as Derek makes his way around the table and down the line of omegas, Stiles watches him as passes by Lydia, Isaac, and other seemingly appealing options, stops breathing when Derek stops in front of him, steps forward and stares him down, and Derek transforms before him, eyes softening, face relaxing into something he can’t decipher. The power that radiated from him is steady though, and Stiles can feel it thrumming through him.

His heart is slamming against his ribcage and his breath comes in soft stutters as he takes in Derek, thick eyebrows and green eyes framed by dark lashes, he’s got dark stubble and sharp features and tiny ears and Stiles is feeling dazed and a little breathless when Derek leans into him.

His breath is warm and wet against Stiles neck and when whispers “submit” into his ear, Stiles bares his neck and whispers “Alpha” back.

…

The omegas are presented to them, and when Derek does finally settle his attention on them he’s not sure how to react. What is he supposed to do, just pick the best looking one, the one who looks like they’ll breed best, who looks like they’ll be a better leader? He’s not sure how to pass judgment on them, how to choose, and he’s feeling a little lost before he thinks to expand his senses.

He feels it take over him like a wave as he lets himself focus and find a balance. He starts down the line like this, cataloguing each omega’s every movement, pulling on the pack mentality observing their emotions, their reactions, their health and such. He skips the ones that smell like fear, the ones that look dazed, the ones smelling desperate, the ones looking greedy and sure of themselves, the ones who look frail, the ones who smell sick, and eventually he settles on him.

Standing at the far end of the line, eyes wide as they take him in, darting around and categorizing, filing away whatever he picks up before meeting Derek’s gaze once again, biting his lip.

His cheeks are flushed pink and his eyes are wide and golden brown, there’s an expanse of freckles and moles dotting his skin, his lips are plush and bitten red and as he looks up from behind his eye lashes, shy and embarrassed Derek feels caught.

There’s a crown of white flowers adorning his head, a French braid circling his it just below the crown, and soft auburn waves and curls rest inside, his clothes are simple and his boots are old soft leather, so Derek knows he’s not of money.

But he takes his breath away.

Because he smells like old books and sunshine and warm soil foliage and clay houses, his pale skin is smooth and his eyes are wide and wild and Derek wants him.

The steps he take to him get lost somewhere in his mind, time beyond his focus, but then he’s there and the boy he’s looking at him a little bit scared but he’s not backing down either, not moving his gaze. He stills as Derek steps closer though, eyes going impossibly wider, heart hammering, breath stuttering, he smells like arousal and wonder and Derek wants.

He distantly feels himself nuzzle into the boys pale neck, hears himself mutter “submit”. Shakes, shakes, shakes as the milliseconds go by and his control falls away and pools at his feet.

He feels like he’s trying to escape his skin when boy bears his neck and calls him alpha, feels the last of his control fall away at his submission.

The boys voice is breathless and sweet and Derek feel himself step out of the careful realm of self-control he keeps as the boy clings to him and shivers and mewls when he bites into him, as he marks and claims him as his own.

It’s a feeling like no other.

…

His eyes are bright and electric, sparking and shifting while he stands breathless and silent, and Derek wonders how they look right now. He’s so unsure of what to say, too scared to move.

He pulls the closer and closer, weaves their fingers together, buries his fingers in his neck, tries to decide what to do from here, the thinking comes slowly though, washes over him thick and murky while he tries to separate logic from desire. The boy nudges him forward, nuzzles his check, presses a kiss on the corner of his mouth, presses Eskimo kisses into his nose, rubs them together and then pulls away, all smiles.

His chest is constricting because who is he even and “gods, what is your name” escapes from his breathless and half exasperated.

“Aurelian Stilinski” he hums, nuzzling Derek’s cheeks and continuing to whisper in his ears. “No one can pronounce it though so everyone calls me Stiles instead.” he continues easily, his words barely registering even as he says them.

Derek chest rumbles deep and content, gripping Stiles hips and wrapping his arms around his neck, nuzzling him further, placing chaste kisses against his face, blowing on his nose before rubbing them together.

“Au-re-lian” he over enunciates the name purring, smug and a little beside himself with joy.

“A pretty name for a beautiful boy” he continues. Stiles flushes at his compliment, pleased and pink with it, rubbing his nose against Derek’s again before humming.

Closing his eyes Stiles breathes “Derek” and he’s sure he can hear people in the background whispering good naturedly and chuckling at them. He isn’t really sure though, so wrapped up in Stiles, who’s now keeping up a steady purr and humming while he nuzzles Derek and settles into him, pulling him closer and closer. Derek is sure he’s no better, smoothing his hands down Stiles back, over his ass and up again, pressing soft kisses against his lips whenever he can catch them, pulling a sweet sigh from the boy and making his heart jerk in his chest.

Lovesick

He manages to pull himself out of the fog though, focusing back into his surroundings and noting that the others have moved on, already eating and dancing, Laura has chosen her mate and he can hear her up at the table trying to convince her to eat while she fights her, petulant and stubborn. His father is speaking in boisterous tones to a woman he addresses as Colette and Stiles has settled into Derek’s neck, kissing him occasionally and breathing contently. Derek nudges at him and he looks up, eyes dark but clear and aware.

He nods towards the table and asks him if he’d like to sit, tugging him towards his seat even as he waits for a response. Stiles nods though and follows without arguing, lets Derek lead him as he stares him down, and Derek can barely tear his own gaze away from the beautiful boy, whose eyes are curious and patient as they watch Derek.

Derek settles into the cushioned chair and Stiles collapses into his lap and cradles his face before tugging him forward and pressing Eskimo kisses into him, giving him a wet kiss and pulling away with a loud smack much to Derek’s surprise and amusement.

Stiles smile is bright and wide as he captures Derek’s laugh with his mouth, tugging his lower lip between his teeth and releasing with a laugh of his own, nuzzling under the man's chin before sighing.

“Mine” he breathes into the man’s neck, and Derek shudders, arms tightening around the boy before nudging his mouth back on his, kissing him slow deep.

Pulling away he breaths “all yours” into the boys mouth, before pressing another quick kiss into him and nipping at his nose, declaring his own ownership with a rumbling tone.

“Always” Stiles agrees fervently, eyes bright as they gaze into Derek’s own.

He noses down into Derek’s neck, tightens his thighs around his waist and smooth’s his hands down the planes of his broad chest as he begins to speak.

“You chose me” he sounds breathless and wondrous as he says it, surprised and unsure.

“I haven’t the slightest clue why though, why you would want me, probably because I hadn’t opened my mouth yet, I’ve been told my pretty face would do wonders if I could ever learn to close it. Still, it doesn’t matter now, because I’m yours and you are mine and only death could part us.” Stiles grips Derek collar and Derek’ too lost to respond, trying catch up with his Chosen’s quick mouth.

“To think, I’ve actually done my family proud, my great grandmother is probably rolling in her grave, a French joining the royal family? Unheard of. My mother’s probably in tears, her mother would be too, this is all she’s ever wanted. All dangers and possible character flaws aside she would have shoved into your arms the moment you rested your eyes on me, it wouldn’t even matter what your intentions may have been or if you your beat women and children, she would have been ecstatic to see me go, one less mouth to feed she’d figure, the bitch.” He snorts at this “I always hated Nana, not Great Nan, Great Nan was a real woman, so strong and proud and smart, I always loved her most.” Derek’s coughing up a lung in shock, he can hardly keep up with this boy’s mouth and the suggestion that he beats anyone has got him sort of choked up.

Stiles eyes widen in surprise and worry “are you okay” Derek nods before sputtering.

“I could never, I would never want to hurt you, you know this right” Stiles shrugs

“Now I do I guess, though I never thought you would, if I’d been afraid of you I would have tried to fight you, not to say I’d succeed but if I didn’t trust you you’d know.” Derek nods and Stiles wiggles in his lap, shifting until he was comfortable again and lifting his knees so he was level with Derek.

Derek grips the boys hips as Stiles pins him with his gaze and slides his hands down Derek’s arms and grips his biceps before twining their fingers and tilting his head.

“You trust me right.” He asks, voice somehow challenging, unnecessarily though. Derek does, he does trust him, foolishly and unquestionably for someone he just met, he voices tell Stiles this despite his reserves because it’s the truth and is rewarded with a pleased flush and a sideways smile for his efforts.

“That’s how magic works though” he responds “it wouldn’t be magic if it wasn’t a little bit questionable, this may be odd but it’s real all the same. Like mother always said it would be” Stiles glows with this and Derek can’t help but nod in agreement.

“Yeah” he says, voice rough as he chokes down want and wonderment.

“What else did you mother tell you” he asks, and Stiles tilts his head back and looks at the expansive ceiling and glowing chandeliers responding slowly.

“She said that magic is always murky, as are the things that tie us to it and together, that’s it’s thick and slow and heavy like syrup and I’d have the hardest time trying to fight it, that I should be patient and loyal and loving unconditionally and from the very start. Fighting it would only wear me down and make us both sad and weak. So it’s always been a thing for me, no matter how afraid I was to leave my home and my family I could never be afraid of what was to come after that. I’ve always believed that whoever chose me would be good to me and would want to take care of me.” He sighed and looked at Derek then into their lap, twisting their hands and dropping them before continuing.

“I guess I’ve always been a hopeless romantic, I couldn’t imagine wanting to fight my mate, wanting to fight the pull. I still can’t imagine what kind of fear or skepticism would make me want to fight you. Especially when everything inside me just wants all of you, wants to scent and to kiss and nuzzle you. To crawl and your lap and whisper in your ear and to laugh and see you laugh. To capture your smiles and affection and to win your love and your loyalty, I want you to want me to, and I want to give you all that you want. That you want me, and you claimed me, it’s everything I’ve ever wanted, this stupid romance where you sweep me off my feet and actually fucking want me. Even knowing what I was there was, there is no guarantee I’d get a happy story, I still don’t even know, all I do is want. Painfully so. ” Stiles blushes and Derek can’t help but bark out a laugh, no matter how inappropriate.

“I swept you off your feet” he questions, half joking, Stiles nods though rolling his eyes but smiling all the while.

“I’m fucking enchanted” he responds dryly but he’s being honest and Derek’s smile is a thousand watts, bubbling into a laugh at Stiles bewildered expression.

“Gods, too much, too soon” he breathes, half exasperated with himself for feeling the way he does. He needs to steer them away from the heavy stuff before he psyches himself out, which he’s sure he will do.

So Derek presses his hands into Stiles waist, urging him to face the table before leaning forward and placing his head on his shoulder, letting the boy take in the large spread before him briefly kissing his neck and shaking out the last of his laughter.

“Let’s eat before everything goods gone” he suggest, and Stiles nods in agreement, adjust slightly so he can eat and also address Derek face to face if he wants, and leans into Derek before waiting for him to make the first move.

“What do you want” he asks, and Stiles breaths heavy, laughing deep before responding: “everything”.

Derek can’t help but shake his head, only a bit surprised, before he spreads his hands out as if to say ‘take what you want’ and leans back.

Stiles does so, piling onto a plate in front of him and Derek watches and waits while he finishes taking what wants and pulls the plate towards him, scooting up a bit, pulling apart what looks like lamb and feeding himself one piece before turning around and offering the other to Derek.

Derek parts his lips and opens his mouth, accepting the food and kissing Stiles index and middle finger in process. Stiles smiles, pleased, and repeats the process and they go on like this for a while. Taking some for themselves and then feeding the other, passing glasses of mead and wine between themselves and speaking in hushed tones, pressing kisses into each other easy slow until the their bellies are too full go on.

Stiles turns and faces Derek after he piles their silverware and trash, pushing the plate away and pulling him into another kiss, smiling so wide so soon into that he can’t even continue, laughing softly as Derek licks at his mouth when he has to pull away.

Stiles lips are stained red and his eyes dilated when he pulls away, his thighs tight around Derek’s waist, hands moving from his stubbled chin, down his throat, and onto broad shoulders. Still close enough to breath Derek’s air and he’s hard in his shorts, with Stiles ass in his palms and the taste of his lips on his tongue he’s seeing no reason not to capitalize on that.

Derek can’t mount him yet, not before their mated and married, but he can pleasure him, can make his lips sing and his eyes roll back. He’s is no stranger to sex and he knows that he could take this beautiful boy apart easily with only his hands and his mouth, wants to see how long it takes to make him shake and shiver, wonders about all his tells and all his soft spots.

He can’t help but whisper “do you want to go to bed” when they’ve sobered a bit, wanting this boy this boy to strongly to hold out any longer.

Stiles nods though, admitting to his own lust, kissing him easily before speaking.

“Let me say goodbye to my maman and papa first, then you can take me to our room” he request.

Derek nods because that’s not a problem, and let go of Stiles waist, watches him slip off his lap and lose limbed and coltish as he wobbles and he collects himself, waiting for his legs to get used to carrying his weight again.

His mate walks away from the table and into a crowd of swaying dancers, stopping by an older couple and letting himself be pulled into their arms. Derek wonders as watches the exchange when he’ll actually get to meet them, wonders if Stiles parents would even like him.

He really hopes so, it’s obvious from the way Stiles speaks that he adores his parents, and Derek doesn’t think he’d take it well if they couldn’t accept him.

Stiles comes back to him before he can really begin to worry about it though, pulls him from his seat, and swipes a bottle of mead from the table, taking a swig before wrapping himself around Derek and looking at him with mischievous eyes.

Derek lets him drag him into the empty hallways and press him into the walls, leaving the rest of his world behind them.  
…

The trip to his chambers is of teasing kisses and spirited laughs, he’s chasing Stiles down the hall, herding him into his room and closing the heavy doors behind him before turning and facing the boy, whose across the room already, laying the bottle by his feet and standing at the foot of the bed, eyes wide as he waits for Derek.

He breathes and then steps forward, letting the handle fall from his fingers and knock against the door as he falls to his knees and crawls towards the bed, pushing Stiles onto it and pressing kisses into his thighs before sliding down, and taking hold of his calves.

Stiles stares at the dark canopy above him as Derek unlaces his boots and slides them carefully off bare feet, slides the left one into his palm, presses his thumbs into the arch and kisses his ankle bone, sucking on the skin just below it, then repeats the process with the right, kisses his way up into the creases behind his knees and then stands up when he’s satisfied.

“Strip” he commands, and Stiles obeys dazedly, unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders, then undoing his belt, unfastening his shorts, and sliding them down his thighs, kicking them off at the foot of his bed. He sits up on his elbows and stares Derek down with hungry eyes while the man takes him in; the column of his neck, his prominent collarbones, nipples dark and pebbled, skin fair and smooth.

There’s a spray of freckles and moles that Derek wants to count and connect and as his gaze slides down Stiles torso he takes in his shallow belly button and his subtle hips, barely curving into thighs and the swell of his ass. He’s bare with the exception of a pale white pair of panties, silken with a simple lace trim; hard cock outlined in the silk, thighs pale and spread wide for him, inviting Derek in.

He undresses himself, lets his clothes pool at his feet before settling over the boy on the bed. Stiles climbs further up and Derek follows him on his hands and knees, leaning back and straddling him when he finally collapses into a nest of pillows, Stiles eyes are bright in the pale light, as he slithers from under Derek, tugging at the comforter until the man takes the hint and crawls under it with him. He wraps his legs around Derek’s waist, crosses his ankles, and slides his hands down his back, pulling him close and kissing him slow and easy.

Derek follows his lead; licking into the warm cavern and exploring every inch before pulling away and sucking his lower lip into his mouth, nipping at it and then letting it go as he lays Stiles back down and takes his thighs. Untangling his ankles and hitching his legs up and around his shoulder Derek slides down and in between them, breath hitching when Stiles reaches back and spreads himself for him, his hole already wet and ready, contracting when he breathes hot and wet against it. Stiles sighs and Derek pulls him closer arching his back off the bed and replacing Stiles hands with his own, spreading him farther open before leaning forward and licking the puckered hole in broad strokes.

Stiles moans long and breathless as he slides his hands up his thighs and grips the backs of them, arching farther off the bed and pushing himself Derek’s mouth, humming contentedly when Derek kisses him and sucks on the rim, whispering his name when he prods against him pushes in with his tongue.

“Mmm, yes, do that again, yes, Derek, oh god, Derek just like that, just like that Derek, oh, oh oh, Derek, Derek”

Stiles mouth falls open, tipping his head back and tightening his thighs around Derek’s neck; whispers words of encouragement while Derek presses into him with his tongue and tugs him open with his thumb.

By the time Derek’s got three fingers on him and his teeth on the inside his thigh Stiles is nearly gone, rocking onto his fingers, rolling his hips in time with his thrust, and moaning his name among other encouragements. Derek bites and licks and sucks hickeys into the sensitive skin of his thighs and curls his fingers and presses against Stiles prostate, making him call out and curse, ride his fingers faster as he gets closer to his release.

He lifts his hips shifting the angle a bit and rocks back against Derek’s fingers hard, moaning when he slides against his prostate again, again, and again, toes curling when he wraps his fingers in Derek’s hair and tugs. Calling out the princess’s name and shooting against his own chest and belly as he comes, his walls tightening and contracting against Derek’s fingers as he rides it out.

He unhooks his ankles and falls limp in the bed, wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck once more and tugging him forward, kissing him languidly and while Derek strokes himself to completion, painting him in hot white stripes then collapsing on him and sliding against him. He leans back and rubs it into the boys belly before grunting in satisfaction, rolling them over and settling Stiles on him.

“Tell me a secret he whispers” hand spreading out on Stiles, arm relaxing against his waist, holding him loosely against him as he relaxes and closes his eyes, Stiles says something garbled and only half English and Derek is too far gone to try to decipher it, sleep taking him over before he can get an answer.

....

Melissa is his favorite aunt, mostly likely god sent and probably the only person who could get away with harassing him too early in the morning on his first day home in six years. Still, he’s ready to ring her neck when she hustles her way through the doors loudly announcing her presence and waking him in the process. Years of conditioning have made the mornings and sudden unwelcome wake up calls much easier to deal with but right now he’s really not having it.

Stiles is wrapped around him, face buried in his neck and murmuring obscenities and go away’s into his skin. He cards his fingers through the boy’s hair, grips his neck and runs a hand down his back before throwing an arm over his face and blocking out the sunlight. He echoes Stiles demands and growls when Melissa threatens call his cousins in, which would probably only end in tears, so he waves her off and groans in defeat, only half listening when she tells him he’s got a bath ran and waiting.

“You know the plans for today kiddo; get off your ass and out the door you’ve business to take care of and so does your pretty mate.” He rubs at his eyes and nods before yawning before extracting himself from under Stiles and rising from the edge of the bed.

He untangles Stiles from the sheets and smacks at his thighs trying to get him to sit up and stand. He’s limp and a dead weight and pulling him to his feet proves to be useless because he’s about as steady as a newborn colt and stumbles and collapses too often to actually move, groaning and slapping at Derek’s insistent hands all the while.

He ends up collecting the boy in his arms and carrying him to his bathroom, setting him on the floor by the edge of the tub and letting him crawl in by himself while Derek pauses to take a piss.

He shakes and flushes before he turns and faces the tub. It’s large, ivory white, and claw footed against dark granite floors, and resting in it, buried in soupy water and bubbles is his half asleep fiancé. Head tipped back against the cold stone, pale lids closed as he breathes softly, his hair is loose and wild and his body is splayed out and pliant. Derek thinks he’s stunning like this, bathed in muted sunlight and carefree, his plush mouth slightly open as he breathes, and the thrum of his heart pulses and Derek is sort of lost all over again.

He slides in the tub and picks up the boys calf, tangling them together and pulling him closer before pushing into his arch with his thumb kissing the pad of his foot. His eyes flutter open, soft with sleep, and Derek’s chest aches.

“Morning beautiful” Stiles answering smile is as soft as his eyes.

“Good morning Big Strong Man” he leans forward bending his legs and puckers his lips, Derek indulges him; filling the gap between them and kissing him good morning.

Stiles sighs happily and leans back again, wiggles his toes and tilts his head, Derek continues to massage his feet. Stiles smiles again, wide and bright and Derek returns it.

“You’re gonna get sick of spoiling me” he warns Derek shakes his head in denial, doesn’t think that’ll ever be a problem. Doting on Stiles is too easy right now, the boy could ask for the world if he wanted and Derek would shoulder it for him and tell him to have it.

Stiles laughs anyways, and he’s not sure if it’s because he doesn’t believe him of if he’s still shocked he’s even here right now. Derek slides his hands up the boy’s calf, squeezes and kisses his wet skin, never losing eye contact. Stiles gets this warm look on his face and Derek can practically feel the adoration rolling off of him, easy and soft.

He grips on Stiles leg and jerks him forward, laughing when he squeals and splashes suddenly under water. He returns to the surface quickly enough though, and what starts off as a stone face falls into a pout that has Derek snickering before he pulls both of Stiles legs around him. Wrapping him up in his arms and attempting kissing it away.

Stiles slaps at his arms Derek smiles even wider.

“Bastard” he pouts, and Derek shakes with laughter. Stiles anger falls away at that though, he buries his face in Derek’s neck and nuzzles there, pressing wet kisses to his skin and smiling into it. He grips Derek’s waist and slides his nails across his abdomen before lifting his head up kissing him, once, twice, three times, smiling against his mouth.

“Can we go back to bed” he whines, and Derek is so tempted to say yes to this, to drag him back into their sheets and wrap him up and give in to sleep once more. But Aunt Melisa among others would have his head, and both he and Stiles had things they needed to take care of.

“No baby I’m sorry, I’ve got some meetings I have to attend, and you have to go back home to retrieve your things and speak with your parents. Then there will be late lunch with the family and the beginning of the festival. We’ll be out all day.” Stiles whines at this, pouting again and Derek pulls at his lower lip with his thumb.

“You know you have to talk with your family anyways Stiles, and I have people I need to greet. I’ll see you soon though, few hours tops, and then the rest‘ll fly bye. Promise” Stiles nods and sighs, picking up Derek’s hand and tangling the fingers together.

“Do we need to talk too”? He sounds uneasy and Derek’s not sure what there is to talk about, though it does sound like something they should be doing.

“About what” he asks, because he has no idea how he’d continue this and figures it’d be best just to let Stiles lead this and try to answer any questions or resolve any worries he might have.

“I dunno” he shrugs, squeezing Derek’s hand. “About what’s happening I guess, everything’s going by pretty quick” he shrugs again and sound too terribly unsure for Derek’s comfort.

“Is this a problem, do you wanna slow down” Derek has no qualms with this, loves that him and Stiles are so affectionate and relaxed, but if it’s worrying at Stiles he’s willing to slow down.

“No” he says quickly, breathless and even more tense, he worries his lip between his teeth and Derek takes his thumb and pulls it away again, reaching forward and sucking to his mouth before pulling away and speaking.

“Then what’s troubling you babe” Stiles relaxes into his grip, breathing out heavily before shrugging.

“Nothing really I guess, I guess it just seems like I should be worried? I mean, should it really feel like this already.” And wasn’t Stiles the one telling Derek about magic last night? He asks this and Stiles blushes.

“Yeah” he nods, Derek continues,

“Is this a problem” Stiles shakes his head, “no”.

“Then maybe you should just relax, let this be easy” he says, and Stiles nods, finally looking him in the eye again, smiling somewhat embarrassedly.

Derek nuzzles him, pressing eskimo kisses into him.

“Talk over for now” he asks, Stiles nods, “yeah” he breathes, happy and easy once more.

“Good, now let’s get washed before the water gets cold on us” he insist, and Stiles agrees.

And yeah, Derek really has no problems with this at all.

…

There’s a stilted and rushed breakfast in which everyone sort of runs about and presses quick rushed kisses into foreheads, temples, and cheeks in between stuffing food into their mouths as quickly as possible. Derek knows he should probably be rushing about too but he knows Stiles is uneasy right now, not yet willing to return to the rest of the world yet and wanting to cling to Derek, the only one in the castle who he’s really familiar with. After this Derek has leave him with random escorts and guards and he’s really not ready not willing to do that yet. But he has to stick it out like everyone else and everyone before them.

It gets to a point where he knows he can’t drag this out anymore though and he has to go, he sighs pulling Stiles into him and Stiles grips him tightly.

“Don’t leave” he whispers helplessly, and Derek wants to give him what he wants, damn him if he tried to say he didn’t at, but there are things he can’t weasel out of, no matter how he’d like to try.

He tells Stiles this and Stiles nods and agreement, accepting his own responsibilities and sighing.

Stile pulls him into another kiss, sure in its movements and its strength, he leans into Derek’s chest and tightens his grip on his hand before breathing into his chest.

“Only couple hours, go before I try to drag you back” he untangles his fingers from Derek’s own before shoving him away. Curling his fingers into him before stepping back and smiling lopsided.

“Go” he insist, smile bright and sarcastic like Derek likes it, and feels a little surer and leaving him as he steps back slowly, returning his boy’s smile and keeping his gaze before he steps through the doorway and is forced to turn away.

….

 

Stiles dad smiles as he’s ushered into the house, wrapped up in his mother’s arms before he can even blink.

“Aurelian, baby I’m so happy for you. You looked so happy last night, how was everything?”

Stiles smiles and grips her arms as he pulls away “everything was perfect maman, everything was fine, I’m happy, I really am.” His mother coos.

“Didn’t I tell you baby? You’re no waste of time, and now there’s a nice strong alpha backing me up, you can’t even argue with that can you?” Stiles shakes head and his mama starts crying these big crocodile tears while his father’s smiles wobbly in the background. Arms crossed as he tries to look stern.

“Aw maman, don’t cry, daddy don’t you start either.” His dad snorts and his mom laughs.

“Baby you’re leaving me, I’m supposed to cry” Stiles shakes his head, feeling wobbly lipped just standing by her and thinking about it.

“Stop it, you’re gonna get me started” his dad barks out a laugh and Stiles jumps, eyes flying towards him.

“That’s not a hard thing to accomplish, you and your mom are both big bags of water” he chuckles, Stiles huffs, tears already sliding out as his mother wipes at her eyes and laughs.

And god, he’s leaving this, all of this, his mom and his dad and his house and all these memories. Before he knows it he’s shaking with it, the actuality of it all hitting him and the tears aren’t even in good humor now.

He’s fucking scared.

His father got him wrapped up though, and he’s holding him into his chest. Stiles presses his worry and his loss into him.

…

There’s not much he actually packs away from his home, a few trinkets, some throws from the west he got off the market and some clippings of poems and quotes he favored. Most of the things he does take are antiques and hand-me-downs his mother insist on giving him, a string of pearls, some beautiful scarves, brooches, pins, and a curious collection of lingerie tucked away in a round box with colorful paper and wrapped with a bow. She insisted he keep her boots, claiming they were his all along, and presses a soft kiss into his cheek before pushing him away with sad eyes.

“Maman you act like you and father have no place in the castle, don’t be so difficult come with me” he insist, his mother shakes her head in defiance though, sighing sadly.

“That is your home Baby, and I won’t invade it, I don’t care how much you’d rather me be with you. I’m a grown woman and you a grown man, you’ll be getting married and having babies soon. I can’t intrude in on that.” Her logic still seems flawed, but he realizes he probably couldn’t drag her with him right now and wants to cry again. Instead he swallows it down, shoulders falling as he accepts his fate.

“I love you, I’ll miss you maman.”

“I’ll miss you too baby” she says, before closing the door in his face, nothing having been said to his father, who couldn’t have bared saying goodbye to his one and only, the ache in Stiles chest returns tenfold and as he drags himself into the carriage he comforts himself with the thought of Derek’s waiting arms.

Still, he cries like a baby all the way there.

…

And this is where they set the scene, at the diner table, in the bedroom, in the drafty hallways, and in the crowded bustling town square.

Everyone is whispering and whistling and singing in your ears, a high rapturous song, trapping you in a space full of deadweight emotions, and his hands are on you always, his heart so heavy in your chest.

When do you realize it’s swept you up like a storm? When do you realize it’s got you wrapped up and smothered? This love like a flame, eating at everything that was.

His hands are like brands, wide and thick and calloused, handling you like china, like he could tear you apart.

He probably could, in the nights to come, where you edge closer to the horizon, where the earth meets the rest and it all comes together and you guys are one.

You never thought it would feel like this, your mother never said it would feel like this.

That swell of pride and adoration in your chest, when he tears out her heart and he hands it to you, and the kingdom is yours is and his, he’s just handed you the world and all the woods.

You pant with it, the want, it’s swallowed you whole and it’s got you sweating down to your marrow, too hot, too hot. But he’ll take care of you, you know he’ll take care of you.

Because for all the others that run rampant in his mind you're all that matters.

With his hands on you always and he’s dragging you between his legs. Claiming your skin and your not his yet, but he’s all yours.

All this is yours too, the earth and the horizon, all the woods and everything else.

...

They get married when the stars are bright, even in the day, and the horizon is as close as it will ever be. Just beyond the gray of the storm the sky fades out into brilliant purples, pinks, blues and a never ending black dotted by worlds and constellations.

There are whispers of a golden age to come.

The canopy is heavy, deep greens and dark browns. Everything is damp and rich and smells so strongly of earth, Stiles feels it spin beneath his bare feet, twist his toes in soggy grass.

This is it, this is the beginning of the age of the gods.

It came to him, a breeze in the night, feather light against his fever skin. His patron in his ear and in his dreams.

It’s a field, glowing and softly swaying in the breeze, all the pines surround him, thick and tall and strong.

And with his feet planted firmly in the ground he feels the power of the earth flow through him, the power she bestowed, so that he could lead his brethren into the new world.

The grass twist between his toes, growing and tangling at rapid pace, the pines shoot up and everything blossoms.

The wild flowers twist together like a crown, a laurel, and the deer gallop golden though the trees and the birds sing so pretty.

A high rapturous trill, weaving him tales of the world he could give to his people.

The breeze twist through his fingers and his hands are held in Derek’s own once more.

He’s shaking, their crowning them, their wedding them too.

“Till death do us part and beyond that too”

Derek slides the ring on his finger, it’s matte gray littered with moonstone dust, twisted around a bright pearl, crowned in diamonds.

They kneel and the crowns are placed upon them, a simple silver band sits below a crown of bright flowers, and it’s all set in stone.

Time to bring it all together again.  
...

The night goes by in a daze, it’s bright lights, loud music and good food. Everything is warm and well, everyone is celebrating the new bonds and the new year, ready to bring in a new generation.

By the time they stumble into the master bed, the new day has came and passed.

He falls into the bed, naked as the day he was born, twist his fingers in Derek’s hair, wraps his legs around his waist, drags him in to keep him there, breathing into his neck, taking him apart with his hands.

“Claim me, fuck me, I’m yours” Derek shudders above him, the want is back like a fever.

He sits back, grips his waist, slides his hand down his thighs and strokes the insides with his fingertips, parts Stiles legs as he smoothes his hands up to the apex of his thigh.

He wraps a hand around his cock in a loose grip, strokes it once, twice.

Stiles tosses his head back, closes his eyes, breathes deep through his nose, bites his lip and holds back a whimper.

He drags his hands back over Stiles thighs and pulls his leg forward, kisses his calfs and then his ankles, tickles his foot and smothers his smile at Stiles squeal and kick into his mates ankles.

“I love you” he breathes, and Stiles grips the sheets at this, tries to tone down the too wide smile breaking across his face.

“I love you too”

Derek wraps Stiles thigh back around his waist, leans in to kiss him deep.

Stiles shudders under him, tightens his legs around his waist, grips his biceps.

“Derek”

...

He nearly shreds through the sheets when Derek enters him, stops breathing when he bottoms out, shudders when he pulls back and comes onto the bedspread when he snaps back in.

It’s a string of curses and whimpers and Derek is bent over and smothering himself against Stiles spine, and grunting with each thrust, riding Stiles through it and building him back up again.

He rocks back, rolling his hips, trying to get him deeper, trying to get him closer.

“Need it Derek, need your knot, need you to breed me. Want it, want your pups, want you, give it, Come on give it to me.”

Stiles is begging, gone and feverish with the heat that’s taken over. Derek growls, snaps his hips and nearly tears into Stiles.

He feels the tension when Derek hips lock into place, feels the swell at the base of his cock stretching and pushing at his walls.

He hisses, Derek growls and snaps his hips, muscles taut as he locks it in.

“Fuck”.

...

He crosses his legs indian style and rubs the swell of his belly through the thin cotton of Derek’s button up, nearly six months in and he’s beyond pleased, tired, achey, and nearly always craving something odd. But more happy than he’s ever been.

Joshua climbs into the bed and Stiles strokes his snout, smoothes the fur under the neck of the young buck and kisses his temple. His brother Samson soon follows, and Stiles gives him the same treatment. They feel like his children as much as the three wolves in his belly do and he adores the twins with everything he has.

There’s a certain glow to his familiars, their golden fur and too bright eyes remind him they are natives of the spirit realm, here to keep him company as he transcends the world into the era of the gods.

Born by his hands and raised in his home they are still very much his own, as is this forest and this kingdom.

They are here for a purpose though, and are expected to help him remember his cause and his strength, because he, his husband, and the twins are the only ones in contact with the beyond and the only ones shouldering the power it takes to wash away years of pollution and war.

In the time it will take for the triplets to be born and the transition to complete, they will need the reminder of the world his patron envisions.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my gosh this was sorta the worst, I edited and edited and writers block was too often and I jumped around in POV's style and tone and yeah, sorry if this sucked. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought and be generous with the concrit, I need it.
> 
> A comment on the ending made me feel I should better explain it, my response:  
> The confusion was sorta the idea towards the end, as everthing seemed to progress faster and mash together with the rush of everthing, Stiles emotions, and his patron contacting him. Sorry because it was confusng, and yeah Derek killed Laura for the throne, and yeah he loved his twin. But this was something that he and everyone else always saw coming, it was expected of him to do, if he wanted the crown Laura would have had to submit or die. She choose her fate and he can't mourn for a leader who was too weak to win her kingdom and too foolish to throw in the towl, sister or not.


End file.
